


A Supernatural Slumber Party at the Stilinskis'

by ladyknightanka



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Innuendo, M/M, Past Abuse, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed, Sleepovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 19:19:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/625663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyknightanka/pseuds/ladyknightanka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Derek and Scott handle the alpha pack, the Stilinskis open their home to Isaac. It's a weird experience all around, but nowhere near as bad as Stiles had expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Supernatural Slumber Party at the Stilinskis'

**Author's Note:**

> Written for lirren during the anonymous [tw_holidays](http://tw-holidays.livejournal.com) fic exchange. Originally posted [here](http://tw-holidays.livejournal.com/15699.html) on the community.
> 
> I hope it's a nice read! ♥

-

A Supernatural Slumber Party at the Stilinskis'

-

Stiles stares up at the ceiling of his bedroom, fingers bunched in his blankets.  
  
He can hear his dad bustling around downstairs, and also the rare car or person passing their street, but mostly, his ears catch Isaac's soft, steady breathing – obsessively hone in on it, even.  
  
When he flicks his gaze to the floor left of his bed, he sees Isaac curled up atop a blow up mattress. Even in the darkness, the sooty lashes that frame his eyes, prone against his pale cheeks, stand out starkly.  
  
Stiles sighs. Loudly. And maybe shifts toward Isaac, then changes his mind at the last second, jerks the other way, and slams his elbow into his bedside lamp.  
  
It tilts on its axis. He stifles an “Ow!” with a fist against his mouth, staring at the lamp with the desperate hope that it’ll cut him some slack, that it’ll fall static, but in the next instant, it clatters to the floor with a cacophonous clang and shatters. The sound elicits a flinch from Stiles. For a moment, the world freezes – tenses – as he waits for his father to react in alarm.  
  
“We're okay, Dad!” he calls, before the sheriff can bust down his door.  
  
More sounds meet him: a longer-suffering sigh than his was, footsteps that still, then pick back up and recede, another bout of silence. The digital alarm clock near his head reads _three a.m_.  
  
Stiles burrows deeper into his pillows, bottom lip caught between his teeth to stifle a curse. This really sucks.  
  
“You know, I can practically _feel_ you thinking from here,” he hears Isaac say, so abrupt that he nearly rolls off his bed again, but annoyingly smooth, too. Like butter. On a scone. He's always suspected Isaac to be secretly British.  
  
When Stiles glances down, he finds that Isaac's expression hasn't changed in the slightest. His mouth is a neutral slash below the slope of his cheekbones, but very pink, and his eyes aren't even open. He looks, for all the world, like he's dead-asleep. One or the other.  
  
“Am I imagining things?” Stiles asks, just to make sure he isn't. With Beacon Hills as it is now – by which he means _crazy_ – it's totally possible that he might be. “'Cause that'd be a great way to spend Christmas, actually. Ya hear that, Santa? Got some hallucinations in that sack?”  
  
“Shut up,” says Isaac, no bite behind the words. This time, he sits up, rolling onto his belly like a dog doing a trick, weight braced on his elbows. He cocks his head Stiles's way. “What's the matter with you, anyway? You're acting like more of a flake than usual.”  
  
“I–” Stiles looks away from him, then asks, “Is this weird for you, too, or do I have to suck it up and deal?”  
  
Isaac purses his full lips together like he's actually contemplating concurrence with the latter, if only to shut Stiles up, but eventually, he joins in on the symphony of sighs that have been the muzak to this night – to the elongated elevator ride that is their kooky life.  
  
“Is it weird for me to have a sleepover with the best friend of my rival wolf pack's alpha?” Isaac drawls, interrupting Stiles's amateur philosophy. “Nope, not really. Just another Monday.”  
  
“Hey! At least _you've_ been sleeping like a baby!” exclaims Stiles, and once again thinks, _this sucks_. Isaac waking up hasn't ameliorated anything, as he'd secretly hoped it would.  
  
Isaac doesn't reply straightaway. He's so silent, Stiles assumes he's gone back to sleep, and has to turn toward him to check. He finds that Isaac's eyes, endlessly blue and wide, are locked onto the ceiling, as Stiles's had been not long ago.  
  
“I've been pretending,” Isaac murmurs, after a few minutes. “I used to do that at, uh, at home, but I was actually thinking about Scott and Derek…”  
  
He trails off, lets the sentence hang, and an _oh_ sounds in Stiles’s brain. It makes sense. Isaac has somehow ingratiated himself to both alphas – which, yeah, had bugged Stiles at first, if you were wondering – so when the alpha pack decided they wanted to mount another beta head on their wall, Scott and Derek finally set aside their differences for him.  
  
Frowning down at Isaac's pensive face, Stiles says, “Me too...but not about Derek. Much.”  
  
“It's just–” Isaac bites his lower lip. If Stiles squints, he can see jagged fangs press into the delicate skin, but Isaac's eyes, like two gold coins, snare his focus further. “–what'll I do, if something happens to them? I don't exactly have anyone else.”  
  
Downstairs, they hear the sheriff swear. It's a familiar enough sound to Stiles that he doesn’t react with alarm. His father must have stubbed his toe again, trying to maneuver in the dark. He really should have gone to bed hours ago, but Stiles will wait till morning to scold him.  
  
“That's not true,” he says instead, cutting in before Isaac can get too maudlin. “My dad's been worrying about you since _before_ you wolfed out, dude. Smuggling yourself out of your foster homes to squat in Derek's dank lair definitely didn't help. You don't know how relieved he is that you agreed to bunk here for the holidays.”  
  
Isaac stares up at him through his eyelashes, surprisingly coy. His tongue creeps out to wet his mouth, before he inquires, “And you? Do you feel the same?”  
  
“I, uh–” Stiles works his jaw for a few seconds, then clicks it closed, swallowing hard. He forces a smirk and hopes his voice pitches louder than his erratic heartbeat. “–I didn't, to be honest. You're the reason I can't get any shut-eye tonight, after all.”  
  
“Oh,” Isaac says, and his wild curls curtain his face. The glint of his eyes is evident beneath them, when he cants his chin up to speak. “Maybe I can help you with that?”  
  
He's off his blow up mattress, scrabbling up the side of Stiles's, in an instant. Before Stiles even has a chance to squeak, he's blinking up into Isaac's striking face, into his stupidly, endlessly blue gaze, somehow just as riveting as the gold.  
  
Lanky arms and knees poised around Stiles's body, not quite touching him, Isaac asks, “You're not going to scream for your father if I kiss you, will you? 'Cause I'd rather not go back to jail.”  
  
Stiles swallows again, but manages a brisk shake of the head. Isaac's lips soon search his out. They're soft and cool and sweet, like minty gum. Stiles wishes he'd had the foresight to chew some himself, since he'd packed away a whole sleeve of onion rings for dinner, but Isaac cups a hand against his cheek to bring him closer, apparently unperturbed by his onion breath, so he lets himself melt.  
  
Somewhere, deep in the recesses of his mind, he's thinking, _OMG, OMG, OMG, is this real?_ because nothing makes sense. Even before the bite, Isaac was all lithe limbs, big blue Bambi eyes, and cheek bones to ski off of. Now, whether he realizes it or not, he's probably got a fan-club to rival Jackson's. Stiles is still Stiles, meanwhile. Awkward, can't-shut-up, sort-of-an-asshole, virginal Stiles.  
  
That doesn't stop Isaac from flashing him a bright, surprisingly bashful grin once they pull apart, his fingers securely splayed across Stiles's cheek, chaste as butterfly wings. Stiles offers back a goofy grin and wonders, why the hell is he thinking such cheesy crap?  
  
“You didn't even use tongue,” he says, and yup, that's more hormonal teenager than teenaged philosopher. Good.  
  
Isaac pulls a face, cheeks pink. “I, er, I haven't before. You know. With tongue or otherwise.”  
  
“ _Kissed_?” exclaims Stiles, and gapes.  
  
It's kind of hypocritical, since Stiles isn't much of a man of action himself. Isaac, like the other wolves, at least looks like he belongs on the Halloween cover of _Teen Vogue_ , which is more than Stiles can say.  
  
Before the furrow between Isaac’s eyebrows can give way to a growl, he adds, “Not that there’s anything wrong with that. My, uh, first time was with Scott. We were fourteen and no one used to even look at us, ya know? Figured we’d get it outta the way, just so we could say we did.”  
  
Isaac’s eyes widen. He rolls off Stiles’s body, but remains in his proximity, arm against arm, leg against leg. He’s got his think-y face on, and Stiles wonders, now that he knows Scott’s not completely averse to kissing boys, does Isaac want to forget this night ever happened? He’s seen the soulful looks they share…  
  
But then, Isaac throws his free arm across Stiles’s hips, face burrowing into his neck, and asks, “Is this okay?”  
  
Stiles shudders at the pleasant warmth that radiates from him and nods his head. What he blurts out, though, is, “ _Twilight_ got something right, huh?”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Nothing, nothing.”  
  
Stiles grins. From now on, if it’s as okay with Isaac as it is with him – which is to say, a hundred, thousand percent okay, _okay_? – maybe Isaac won’t have to sleep on the floor anymore. Maybe they can find somewhere _better_.  
  
Definitely, maybe.

 

-

The End

-

**Author's Note:**

> One day, I will write more with the concept of Isaac living with the Stilinskis (or McCalls). Today, I just hope you all enjoyed this. :)


End file.
